


lay me in the palm of your hand, I'll give you my permission

by charleybradburies



Series: Geraskier Week 2020 [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Geraskier Week, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Sex, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Pet Names, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protectiveness, Public Display of Affection, Publicity, Romantic Angst, Romantic Gestures, Rough Kissing, Sexual Tension, Witchers Have Feelings (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22802086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charleybradburies/pseuds/charleybradburies
Summary: There is the point when they start to speak in white lies, lies intended to protect that do that and then some, growing into something larger, getting absorbed into the mythos they've become - the witcher and his pet bard (or was it the other way round?)Geraskier Week: Day Three (Protection)Title from "No Shame" by 5 Seconds of Summer.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634425
Comments: 20
Kudos: 442





	lay me in the palm of your hand, I'll give you my permission

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy, kudos, and comment!

It starts, as so many romances do, with small things - for them, with help given and help accepted, songs written and beds shared.

Geralt adapted more easily than he'd have liked to having someone with him. There were some aspects he disliked, but for the first time, the presence of a human felt like its benefits outweighed its drawbacks. He'd prefer to think it was Jaskier's ability for charm - to earn money and to bribe people into better serving the needs of their pair - but he knew there was more. 

There's Jaskier's seemingly endless praises for Geralt, his drunken hugging, fingers hot atop hard muscle, and midnight cuddling, arms strewn around or back pressed against the witcher's nearby body. There are Geralt's soft looks when near no one else can see, the way he learns to _allow_ instead of argue when it comes to what the bard wants - and the glares directed at anyone who could think of being a threat to the bard, the hand that twitched for a weapon if they were not deterred, one of a pair that itched both to protect and hold the man.

There is the point when they start to speak in white lies, lies intended to protect that do that and then some, growing into something larger, getting absorbed into the mythos they've become - the witcher and his pet bard (or was it the other way round?) 

Geralt allows himself to be scrubbed and dressed and dragged about - but only because it's Jaskier - and _it_ continues with "I'll be no richer for being here, your majesty, it was simply asked of me in a convincing enough manner," with "I promise you he has no interest in your wife, he's spoken for with no reason to stray," with "wonderful recounting of your feat, wasn't that, my love?" and "I thought as much when you were writing it, darling." 

It continues with soft, slight touches that start in public and worm their way into their private life - thighs pressed against each other, Jaskier lounging against whatever of Geralt's larger body parts was available, one of their hands on an arm, a chest, a thigh, of the other. In public it feels - _it is_ \- more performative than when they're alone; every interaction that's viewed by someone else is part of a combined image that's curated more and more carefully every day. At least, Jaskier insists it is - the idea that their reputations were actually helped by publicly being two men linked romantically, one of whom was a witcher, was laughable. Geralt has heard more expected sentiments echoed to the bard's face: a sensual curiosity was only natural, but why, especially if any other relationship was a possibility, would anyone choose a witcher? Surely Geralt could not return _affection_ , could not give _love_.

Geralt wasn't sure he _could_ , but he knew that something like those very things rose in him after every such occasion, for Jaskier's first, immediate response was to defend him. To offer up, scathingly, that there were a _great_ many things of which his Geralt was capable, and love was among them in more than one sense. 

It could be easy enough to believe, if one suspended disbelief and watched the witcher as he bent to his bard's wishes, such as answering to any manner of address said bard decided to use. Jaskier apparently had an endless trove of terms of endearment, and while he had a couple favorites, he used them all as though he'd saved them for the occasion, even if he very clearly ran out of any decent inspiration. He acted as though the situations in which they found themselves were the perfect ones in which to call his partner dearest, lover, sunshine, or angel, or to develop names slightly more tuned to Geralt like moonflower, wise wolf, or even pup. He toed the edge of ridiculousness as he always did, but with this matter as with most others, he learned that Geralt would humor him and used that complacency to do as he pleased. 

It's easier than Geralt would expect it to be to play up his fondness, even - or perhaps especially - when people are least expecting it. People who still think of him as _butcher_ , who Jaskier is more willing to challenge than Geralt himself is on that matter, who get to see him hold his bard close, with affection they can't imagine him having. The fondness spills into the normalcy they'd had before, becomes "there you are, my dear," and "that's enough, darling," and "I'll take the contract from the next town over instead, love, stop worrying." It becomes kisses on cheeks, Jaskier entirely nuzzled into Geralt at night, becomes shared bathing and reciprocal gifts and increasingly sexual teasing, becomes both of them sharply correcting innkeepers who want them to inhabit slightly different space.

It doesn't become _real_ , but it starts to _feel_ real, after some time. 

That in itself is strange. It's not as though there's _no_ desire - Geralt's senses are accosted all too often with Jaskier's lust, and it's been long enough for him to know some of it is for him, as wild as that tends to be, as often as it's a reaction to him post-hunt, under potion's effects, or simply injured and somehow undressed. Yet, as close as they get to the line at which they need to clarify their intentions, whether they're holding up an image and playing with fire or if it's more, if what's in _private_ is true and they've been in an extended _courting_ process, they only ever toe the line. 

Until they can't anymore. 

Until one particular night, when they're slightly drunk off ale and Jaskier's energetic performance, getting back to their room at their current castle lodgings. Geralt's heart has sped up, with him having had to spend an unfair amount of his energy this evening ensuring his bard's safety with his practiced mix of lies and truths, and Jaskier's clasped one pair of their hands together as they walk, keeping them tightly together as he babbles on about the night, about the good food and the crowd response and the _lovely_ outfit he's dressed Geralt up in for the evening.

Jaskier goes from having his arm draped around Geralt's side to collapsing back onto the bed, kicking his boots off and sighing happily; the arm that had been at Geralt's side reaches out above him and he sounds oh-so- _genuine_ when he bids the witcher with a needy whine, "come bed me, my dearest," and-

Some part of Geralt knows it's a bad idea, that at least one of them is bound to be hurt in the long run, but another part takes control of him and he follows with compliance, up onto the bed and inclined over the bard, a smooth movement that pauses with them chest to chest and mouths close but not touching for a couple seconds, until Jaskier presses himself upwards, grinding his hardness into Geralt's own and wrapping his ankles down around Geralt's arse and clasping Geralt's mouth in a kiss. 

There's no gentleness now, precious little restraint; they meet with tongue and teeth, bruising grips and unintelligible moans and the overwhelming scent of mingling lusts. Jaskier insists and barely manages to slip their clothing away without it being damaged before their hands are roaming on bare skin, before their mouths are on each other, before they're peaking and spent and tired and tangled by their limbs on top of the sheets. 

Something new starts when Jaskier's decided to clean them off so they can sleep properly - because they were in a castle with a proper bed, after all, so of course they needed to use it, _Geralt_ \- and stills his hand on Geralt's chest; he seats himself then, nearly in his witcher's lap, certainly near enough for said witcher to kiss, and speaks for the first time in a record amount of time. His voice still sounds like his lust, like his lower groans, but there's a vulnerability there that's just now showing itself.

"Geralt, did I only need to ask, all this time?" 

The hands of theirs that are closest link together, and Geralt isn't sure who initiates that, but he's the one who then brings them up to stroke Jaskier's still-pink cheek. The bard brings his free hand up to return the gesture, and Geralt doesn't stop himself from tilting his head to put a kiss on that palm, enjoying the extra sparkle it puts in Jaskier's pretty blue eyes.

"All this time, no," Geralt answers, softly in that way only his bard has ever drawn from him. "But...a great deal of it. I never thought I should assume-"

"I'm not exactly subtle, darling," Jaskier interjects, half teasing, pressing a series of light kisses to the witcher's cheeks and chin as though he's deciding against conversation. That works perfectly fine for Geralt, who _hmm_ 's and then scoops him up and rolls them around into the bed, laying himself down on his back and his bard draped over top of him. 

"But we can _talk_ tomorrow."


End file.
